A question of interpretation

Wes, our art teacher, started class off on an unusual note today.

“Okay, class,” he said, “I want you to get out a piece of paper. Now I want you to write down one to three words that describe an idea, a belief, or a feeling that has been really important in your life recently. Either something you’re struggling with, or just something that matters to you.”

We were all a little bit bewildered by this.

Wes left the room to let us ruminate. I pulled out a piece of paper and almost wrote down “photography” before I stopped myself. Wait, no, I realized, That’s something that matters to me, but it’s not the kind of “matters” that Wes is looking for. Besides, it’s not an idea, a belief, or a feeling.

Then I got to thinking about what I have been struggling with recently. Images of the mornings that I am always late for school, of the nights when I just can’t get ready for bed, of all the countless times that I just refuse to say “no” to myself flashed through my head. I wrote down “Self-control.”

Five minutes later, Wes walked back in carrying two large brown paper bags. “Do you all have your idea? Good.” He grinned as he began pulling packages of modeling clay out of the bags. “Alright. Now I want you to sculpt that idea.”

So we cleared space on the classroom tables, and for the next half hour or forty minutes we all plied our clay in quiet concentration.

At first, I did not know how to capture “self-control” in clay. But all of a sudden, this image popped into my head: A person standing in front of some larger than life, tempting object blocking his path. I wanted to capture a thin, teeter-tottering slice of time that would leave you wondering: Is he going to move towards the object? Is he going to move away from it? Is he going to reign himself in or let himself go? And I did not want the piece to give any indication as to the answer. As I envisioned it, it would be like a balancing act—a stare down between a person and the decision he has to make.

Now, I don’t pretend that this is the greatest piece of art that ever existed. We only had a limited amount of time, and I am no sculptor. But here is what I came up with:

Part of our assignment in class was to talk about our piece after it was finished. I stumbled through my explanation, feeling frustrated because I did not think I really got across the gist of what I was trying to say.

Classmate Joel, who was sitting across the room from me, spoke up: “From this angle it looks pretty funny.”

“Why?” I asked, worried that he couldn’t see the perspective correctly, and ready to move the figures so he could see them better.

“Well, it just looks like he’s thinking, ‘Man, there’s that damn apple again.”

We all burst out laughing, and my tension was immediately relieved. I couldn’t have put it better myself.

Posted on Tuesday, November 21st, 2006 at 11:55 pm.
Belongs with: Creative Things, Gutenberg Things.
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